The Evils of Alcohol Filled Chocolates
by LadyKayoss
Summary: Based on Ntrophi's twisted series. A dose of two of Hein's worst poisons have interesting results. Perhaps the most horrifying story ever written!


Disclaimer:  I don't own Hein, Elliot, or any of the other characters tortured within.  Hershey and the "Evils of…" world were created by Ntrophi.

Author's Note:  This is the result of me opening my big mouth around Phi.  Thanks a lot, mouth…  Anyway, she graciously allowed me to do this story after disposing of a similar, but more horrifying, idea.  And, I apologize.  This could be the most horrible thing you've ever read.  I'm sorry!  But the yaoi/slash/shounen ai theme had to be done in this fandom sometime.  And at least I used it for comedic purposes, though I lack Phi's manic writing style.  It's not as funny as anything she'd come up with.  And look at it this way… Phi would have used Dr. Sid in place of Elliot…  Anyway, here it is, the first Helliot on Fanfiction.net…

THE EVILS OF ALCOHOL-FILLED CHOCOLATES

He didn't want to wake up.  If he did, something bad was going to happen; he knew it with a dread certainty, felt it in the pit of his stomach.  Sure, every day for Major Elliot was a bad day as long as he served under General Hein, but something told him that this day was going to be worse than most.

His head was throbbing, that agonizing pain he now recognized from the few times in the past he'd gotten drunk.  He was hung over.   _Oh, no…  It can't be… I didn't drink anything!  Right?  It's gotta be something else…_

He kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut, knowing that, when he pried them open, he'd be facing the glare of the sun in that patch of earth beneath the WELCOME TO NEW JERSEY sign that was becoming like a second home.  He didn't want to know which female soldier's underwear adorned him this time…  He nearly hadn't survived his encounter with Corporal Jane Proudfoot when he'd tried to return hers that last time.  So much for being a gentleman.  _What if this time they're… Hershey's?_

A whimper escaped him at the thought of returning underwear to the ethereal beauty that was determined to ruin his life.  _Maybe I should just stay out here… The Phantoms don't seem to like pathetic morons who wander the wasteland in underwear._  He'd tried telling the Council that, but for some reason, they hadn't take too well to the idea of sending out professional soldiers in undergarments.

His fingers clawed at the dirt beneath him as he thought about the horrors that awaited him.  Nope, better to just let this new headache kill him now.  If he just lay here, maybe his head would explode, and that would be the end of it.  He wondered if Hein would miss him.

Elliot slowly became aware of the fact that his pasty skin wasn't being slowly burned to a crisp under a sun that wasn't glaring through his eyelids.  Slipping one hand along the ground beneath him, he suddenly realized it wasn't dirt at all, but soft, cool sheets!

He slowly cracked an eyelid, noticing he was in a dark, military-style room that could even be his own!  Elliot grinned broadly and sat up, nearly falling over again from the splitting pain in his head.  He'd done it!  He'd indulged in alcohol and survived!  True, he could be in a room in Tokyo for all he knew, but he wasn't stranded in the middle of nowhere!  And, he noticed after a brief glance at himself, he was wearing men's boxers, if nothing else.

Cautiously, Elliot slid out of bed and shuffled across the floor to the window.  _Definitely New York_, he thought with relief.  He stared out at the city, taking in the familiar buildings, the busy traffic, the pair of pants on the roof of the women's barracks building below…  Okay, so New York was an odd city, but he loved it anyway.  _I beat it!_  He grinned and went over to the cluttered desk set in the corner, and collapsed into the seat.

What had happened, anyway?  He was certain he wouldn't indulge in alcohol, not after last time.  But what…?  _A box…   A sweet taste in his mouth…  Hein, on his knees, begging to Elliot…_

Elliot blinked.  Well, he doubted he'd be able to rely on his memories.  He sighed, leaned back in his chair, and scowled at the pile of papers on the desk.  He had a lot of work to do today…

Then he blinked and examined the contents more closely.  The expected papers were there, of course, but they had signatures scrawled on them with blue crayon, along with little smiley faces in the margins.  Elliot had a surge of fear.  God, he hadn't signed that approval for Captain Edwards to take a vacation, had he?  He flipped frantically through the papers, and frowned as he realized how unfamiliar they were.  _Wait… these aren't mine!_

His foggy brain took in the items scattered across the desk with sickening horror:  A box of thick crayons.  A notebook which he hadn't seen since his "vacation" to New Jersey.  A piece of paper outlining a plan to defeat the Phantoms with a rubber chicken, a pair of pantyhose, and strangely shaped pieces of sponge.   A voodoo doll with a horrifyingly familiar face.  And a set of photos with Dr. Ross posing in a purple bathing suit.

_This… isn't my desk…_  thought Elliot, just as something on the bed behind him groaned and stirred.  And the memories came rushing back…

*    *    *

"You're not getting these chocolates!" Elliot screeched, yanking the unassuming little box from Hein's grasp.  The general's lips quivered and he gave Elliot a beseeching look.  

"Please?" he begged.

"No!"  Elliot was going to kill whoever had sent these chocolates to his superior.

"Please?" Hein tried again, screwing his face into what would almost pass for a look of childlike innocence if the man weren't so danged scary.

"NO!"

"But…"  Hein's voice was a whimper now.  "It's my birthday!"

Elliot paused.  If he'd forgotten his superior's birthday, he'd never hear the end of it.  Then, "No it's not!  Even if it were, I still wouldn't let you have chocolate!"

Hein looked sulky.  "Then, can I at least smell it?" he pleaded.  

Elliot considered.  He'd never seen Hein affected by a scent…  Then again, this man was so chemically imbalanced that his last breath mint had had him screaming that Ronald McDonald was out to take over the world and he'd sent several squads of soldiers to arrest all the McDonalds employees in the city.

He would take no chances.  Elliot tore the box open and grabbed a handful of the sweets, stuffing them in his mouth.  As he watched, Hein's face shifted from desperate to a completely unexpected expression.  He'd thought the man would burst into tears at this horrifying betrayal, but instead Hein's face had been… cunning.  His eyes had strayed to the box's top, and Elliot's gaze followed as he swallowed the first batch.  FILLED WITH REAL ALCOHOL, read the caption on the box.

As it took affect on Elliot's senses, the last thing he remembered seeing as his vision began to swim was Hein grabbing a handful of the candies and stuffing them down his own throat.

_*    *    *_

"Oh, no…"  He didn't want to know what a dose of two of Hein's worst addictions would do to the man, but he had the feeling he was about to find out…  _Pleaseletthatbea PhantominmybedPleaseletthatbeaPhantomOhGodPlease…_

General Hein sat up on the bed, blinking owlishly in the semi-darkness.  He looked, Elliot noted enviously, rather cheerful.  Sometimes, the major wished he were as blissfully ignorant as the general.__

Now was definitely one of those times.

"Oh!" Hein said brightly, as if seeing nearly naked subordinates in his room was commonplace – there was a thought Elliot didn't need! – "Who are you?"

Major Elliot was still in shock.  He opened his mouth to rage at Hein for not recognizing the man who had spent so many hellish years of his life watching over him, but then the miniscule part of Elliot that was still thinking clearly intervened.  _Do you really want to admit who you are after you slept with General Hein?_

_Slept with General Hein?!_

Slowly, the little thing that had been nagging at Elliot had sunk in.  He turned wide, horrified eyes to an equally nearly-undressed Hein – who had forgotten him in favor of speaking to a pillow, thanks to the lingering effects of the chocolate – and slowly put two and two together.__

_No!  It's not possible!_  Elliot whirled around, searching the room desperately for his clothes.  Sure, he didn't take alcohol well, and Hein had had both alcohol and chocolate, but surely…?

His shirt was easy enough to find:  It was clogging the toilet.  His pants, though…  Elliot ceased his frantic scrambling, ignoring Hein, who had declared his pillow a traitor to the world and was threatening it with execution.

His pants…  were several stories below, on top of the women's barracks.  Elliot's eye twitched.

But at least he still had his boxers!  Yes!  If he was wearing them, that was proof nothing had happened, right?  He glanced down at them, and felt his blood run cold.

Behind him, Hein drew the gun that had apparently shared the bed with them and emptied the clip at the hapless pillow.  Feathers showered Elliot, who ignored them as he stared down at his new undergarments.  He was very certain he didn't wear black silk boxers.  Then where…?

Hein climbed out of bed, revealing a pair of underpants covered with blue teddy bears.  Elliot's underpants.  He suddenly couldn't contain the shrill effeminate shriek that had been building for some time.

"Who are you?" Hein asked again, holding the empty gun before him.  "What are you doing here?"

"Uh," Elliot brilliantly managed.  "Erk…"

"Well?" Hein demanded.  Elliot realized he had to calm the general before he had another paranoid episode.

"I'm… Dr. Sid." Elliot said the first name that came to mind, then almost retched at the image it conjured.

"Dr. Sid?" Hein repeated stupidly.  "Are you sure you're you?"  Hein squinted his bloodshot eyes.  "You have more hair than I remember."

"It seems that way because I'm drunk," Elliot replied, then almost slapped himself.  That wasn't how it was meant to come out.

"So when you're drunk, you have more hair?  Makes sense," Hein said, suddenly cheerful again.  "So, what are you doing here?"

_Good question…_  "Looking for the sixth spirit?"  Elliot hazarded.

Hein had completely lost interest again, and was looking down at the feathers that stuck to his body.  Elliot, who had been unconsciously following his superior's gaze, blushed and turned away.

_Oh, why so shy now?  You probably saw a whole lot more last night…_  The surly part of him that was still capable of coherent thought supplied.  Elliot blushed at the horrifying thought.

"Doctor!" Hein suddenly shrieked, grabbing on to Elliot.  The major flinched and tried to pull away.  "I'm turning into a giant chicken!"  Hein brushed futilely at the feathers that stuck to his sweaty body.  _Is it hot in here?  Or_… Elliot quelled the thought.  "You have to help me!"

"I'll have to take it up with the Council," Elliot said, sidestepping his frantic superior.  He turned to the door, then suddenly remembered his state of undress.  Running around wearing the general's underwear wouldn't make covering up this little episode easy…

He pulled on his sodden shirt, praying no one had used the toilet since it had been stuffed in there.  What was he going to do about pants?  Or…

"I don't suppose I could have my underwear back?" Elliot asked hopefully.  They'd been a gift and had a lot of sentimental value, thought he'd never actually admit to owning them.

"No," Hein said sulkily.  He plucked a feather from his arm and casually examined it.  Elliot wished he could forget problems that rapidly.  "The teddy bears have chose me as their new ruler."

"Right…"  Elliot debated grabbing a pair of Hein's pants, but he wasn't sure he'd like the comments that would cause.  And this time, they'd be true…

Hell with it.  "I'm going to leave," Elliot said.  "I'll get back to you on what the Council says about your… condition."  Elliot inched towards the door.  He couldn't bear being in the general's presence anymore, pants or not.

"Okay!" Hein said cheerfully.  "If you see Major Elliot, tell him to come to my office.  He'll probably need to check me out."

Elliot's eye twitched again.  _He didn't mean it that way.  Really, he didn't…_

Elliot threw the door open, ready to check the hall to see if it was occupied.  Perhaps Fate would be kind to him, and there would be no one from here to his suddenly-too-far-away quarters.

Not only was Fate a cruel mistress, but it seemed she had a really sick sense of humor, too.  Major Hershey was standing right behind the door, hand lifted as though to knock.

"Oh, good, you're here together," she said brightly, as if she found majors half-naked with their commanders every day.  Elliot tried not to think about that.  Her eyes roved over him and, though she seemed to be in the almost-professional mode where she could pass as a sane woman, Elliot could see the gleam in her eyes as she took in the wet shirt, the ill-fitting black boxers, and his scrawny chicken legs.  "Good," she said again, for no apparent reason.  She pushed past him and into the room, leaving Elliot to stand in the doorway in all his glory as a pair of soldiers walked past.  Their snide comments cut through his shock, and he hastily slammed the door and followed after Hershey to where she was prying a small object out from under the toilet bowl.

"Um, Major Hershey?  What are you doing?"  he asked, watching her dumbly.

"I thought that since I was coming here, I'd retrieve my camera.  Something broke it last night," she said as she stuffed it into her pocket.

Elliot's eyes widened.  "You keep cameras in there?"

"Oh, I have them everywhere that you might go," she said airily.  "You should see the shots I have from last night!" she said, eyes gleaming.  "Something totally new to add to my collection."

Oops.  He shouldn't have shut the door – she was going into 'psychopath' mode.  "Why did you come here?" he asked instead, hoping that business would draw her back to a semblance of sanity.

"Oh!  I forgot…  There's a Council meeting today, and you're both supposed to be there in five minutes.  I was supposed to tell you last night, but you were… busy."

Elliot flushed.  "We weren't doing anything!" he screeched, his voice shrill.    Hein, who had been pecking at his bed as though he really was a giant chicken, looked up at the sound and came over to them.

"Really?"  Hershey asked.  She pulled a file from seemingly out of nowhere and passed it to Elliot, who opened it.  The file contained a dozen or so glossy eight by ten photos.  "I got them developed this morning."

Elliot began to flip through them, his heart in his throat.  Hein leaned over his shoulder, and Elliot wanted to shrink from the man's touch.  _These can't be real… I mean, is that __even physically possible?  And I don't really have a mole there, __do I?  I couldn't have… we couldn't have…   He turned to face his superior, who was still looking at the photos with a naïve expression.  "Um," was all Elliot managed._

"Cute, huh?" Hershey giggled.  Then she glanced at her watch.  "You now have two minutes to get to the Council meeting," she said mildly.

"Council meeting?" Elliot repeated blankly.

Hershey rolled her eyes in exasperation.  "Yes… the one I just told you about, remember?"

"There can't be one!  We're not ready!  The general's in no condition…" he wailed as Hein fluttered his arms as though they were wings.

"I'll help you get him dressed.  It can't be too hard to match his clothes, since he only wears black anyway.  And you can just throw on a pair of his pants.  You've already helped yourself to his underwear," Hershey said with a smirk.

Elliot turned bright red.  "I'm not wearing the general's pants," he protested weakly.  "What will people say?"

"What they always say," Hershey said, giving him a push towards the closet, "only this time it's true," she said evilly.

This was Fate's chance to make it up to him.  If a piano would just drop on his head right now for no apparent reason, Elliot would be eternally grateful.  Once again Fate did the opposite, and Elliot was forced to attend a Council meeting with a psychotic woman and a giant chicken.

*    *    *

To Elliot's astonishment, the meeting was almost going well.  After Hein's initial opening speech about how, despite his transformation into a giant fowl, he would still risk its life to save the world, things progressed normally.  The only low point was when Hein cheerfully suggested they forget about the Zeus Cannon, sell the scrap metal, and use the money to buy all the Council members new condominiums.  It had taken all of Elliot's skills, and all of Hershey's as well, to dissuade the Council of the idea's soundness.

At least they had gotten Hein to the meeting to speak at all.  After spending ten minutes chasing Hein around the room, squawking and shrieking like a deranged bird, Elliot and Hershey had managed to pin Hein down and get him dressed.  Well, _Elliot _had gotten him dressed; Hershey had refused to touch the general, saying it wasn't 'proper,' and besides, why should Elliot be so shy after the previous night?

In fact, Elliot was beginning to think things were almost back to normal.  Hein had sunk into his seat, a strange look on his face as if he were actually using his brain for the first time in weeks.  At least he was quiet, Elliot thought.  It gave him the chance to think over his new problem:  Coping with the memories from last night.  He had thought he didn't remember anything – had _prayed _he didn't – but Hershey's pictures had begun to bring it all back…  How was he supposed to work with the general like this?  When the very thought of being near him, of _touching _him, made Elliot want to curl up into a fetal position and whimper.  Maybe this time he could actually get that transfer, or even a court martial!  Surely sleeping with a superior officer was a punishable offense!

And meanwhile, he could change his memories to something more suitable.  Maybe he could imagine Hein had been someone like Jane Proudfoot!  Or Dr. Ross!  Or even Hershey!  No, on second thought, a night with Hershey, even an imagined one, was probably more disturbing than the memories he had now.

So he satisfied himself by envisioning last night as something completely different, and was doing a fair job of it.  Maybe he could continue to live his life normally, after all!

Until Dr. Sid made his speech, that is.  The elderly scientist stood in front of the Council, making an impassioned speech about using some of the budget to re-fill the vending machines.  "I invented the barrier on a Mountain Dew buzz," the old scientist said gruffly.  "I can not help you any more without it!  Either give us our soda, or…"

Elliot let his attention wander back to his imaginary liaison.  This could go on for awhile…  Then he turned towards General Hein, whose lips were moving rapidly.  "Dr. Sid… Dr. Sid…"  Hein was muttering to himself, sounding confused.  "What is it about him…"  Then a shrill scream split the air, and Elliot winced at the sound.  The entire chamber fell silent, and all eyes were on General Hein as he jumped to his feet and ran from the chamber as fast as he could.  All eyes then rested on Elliot for explanation.

"He's, um, afraid of Mountain Dew," Elliot said weakly, then turned to follow his superior.  His exit somehow managed to be even more dramatic; Hein's pants were loose on his waist, and Hershey hadn't been able to find a belt in time.  Elliot forgot to hold them up while running, and the pants slid down his thighs to his knees, and he fell into a heap.  _At least the boxers stayed in place…  he thought numbly as he struggled to hold onto his dignity and his pants, and finally ran out of the room._

*    *    *

He found Hein in his office, whimpering atop a long line of filing cabinets that had been rendered obsolete after computers had been deemed more effective.  Hein had kept them because he loved to play with the drawers.

"What are you doing up there?" Elliot asked.  The general ignored him, curling himself into a tight ball.

"Sir?"  Elliot called.

"I'm hiding," Hein replied, sounding almost sane…  for him, anyway.  At least he didn't seem to think he was a chicken anymore.

"From who?" the major asked.

"D-Doctor S-Sid!" the general howled.  "He… I… We…"  Hein couldn't seem to think of anything more to say.  "I'm never coming down again!"

Elliot was baffled for a moment.  Why was he frightened of the old doctor?  Then, with a surge of guilt, Elliot remembered that he'd claimed to be the doctor when they'd woken up that morning.  Suddenly, Elliot didn't blame him for being traumatized.

The memories Elliot had worked so hard to mask suddenly came rushing back, and Elliot found himself whimpering.  "Does it really make you feel better up there?" he asked.

Hein nodded, and Elliot began to clamber awkwardly up the cabinet across the room from the general.  "What are you doing?" Hein asked, baffled.

"I think I need it, too," Elliot wailed.

*    *    *

He'd almost forgotten it.  Major Elliot had spent the last week on top of the cabinet carefully walling the memories away in that hidden place inside him with everything else he wanted to forget.  His wild night with Hein was there with the time he'd spent roaming New Jersey, and the horrible tattoo incident that had left him with a big yellow bird permanently etched on his shoulder – where he could conveniently pretend it didn't exist – and an odd little winged bear-cat-thing on Hein's rear.   They'd never figured out what drug Hershey had given them to get them both in that condition…

But Major Elliot wasn't thinking about that anymore.  As far as he was concerned, nothing had ever happened.  And he planned to keep it that way.  The past week he'd spent gibbering like a deranged lunatic atop a filing cabinet hadn't happened.  Everything was fine, all fine!

On the second day after he'd crawled off the cabinet, however, his blissful ignorance was shattered.  He was sitting at the officer's table in the mess hall, choking down the foul concoction that tasted almost like ambrosia after his time atop the cabinet without food.  He didn't even once stop to consider what the mystery meat was that week as he scarfed it down.

"Hey there, Major.  I see you finally remembered you have a job to do."  Major Hershey slid into the seat across from him, flashing a cute little smile that made one forget she had an insane side.  No one that cute could possibly that insane…

Major Elliot just shrugged.  It's not like he'd had much of a job to do anyway, with Hein on the cabinet across from him.  He'd still been up there last time Elliot had looked.  Idly, he wondered why.

"You're quite calm about this.  I'm amazed," Hershey continued.  "I'd be mortally traumatized."

Elliot smiled blissfully, almost unaware of what she spoke about.  He vaguely remembered _something had happened in the past week…_

"Did you know that Corporal Proudfoot is keeping your pants?"  Hershey's cute nose wrinkled in disgust.  "I can't seem to get them from her."  From the suddenly savage look on her face, Elliot suspected the cat fight of the century was in the making.  _Maybe they'll let me watch…_

_Waitaminnit…  Where did Corporal Proudfoot get my pants?_

Something half-remembered nagged at him, then was gone.

"What's the matter?  You look more befuddled than usual," Hershey observed.

"Nothing's wrong," Elliot said calmly.  He forked something that looked like a cross between a sprig of broccoli and a limp sock into his mouth.

Hershey arched an eyebrow.  "You spent the last week on a filing cabinet, and you say nothing's wrong."

Elliot frowned.  The memories threatened, but didn't spill over.  "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'd think sleeping with General Hein would be more memorable than that," Hershey said.

Elliot began to choke as his carefully erected wall shattered.  _Noooooo!_ he wailed internally.  So much for his chance to lead a normal life…

Elliot missed the sudden alert expression on the other major's face as he snarled, "There are some things that aren't worth remembering!"

He caught the look on Hershey's face, and suddenly became aware of the shadow looming over him.  "Hein's not standing behind me, is he?"  Elliot squeaked.  Hershey smiled weakly, and a dark-gloved hand fell on Elliot's shoulder.

_Oh, my…_ Elliot shivered at the touch.  "But he's on something, right?  Alcohol?  Drugs?"

"Oh, no, Major," a voice purred in his ear, and Elliot's heart sank.  He couldn't recall the last time he'd heard the general so… sober.  "Quite a shame, really, since unlike you, I seem to be able to remember an awful lot… whether it's _worth_ remembering or not."

Elliot turned to face his superior, who glared down at him with a face that was stern, and horribly, horribly aware.

"So," Elliot said, barely hiding the shrill note in his voice, "you remember Dr. Sid, huh?"

He saw the general wince, then Hein's face darkened.  "Dr. Sid…  Now why, I wonder, would Dr. Sid wear," Hein paused to fish in the pocket of his coat, "these."  He dropped a pair of underwear on Elliot's dinner tray. 

The major's face went read as he became aware all the occupants of the mess hall were staring. After a week of the inevitable rumors, he knew they were eating this up. He picked up the crumpled cloth, meeting the accusing look of the teddy bears printed all over it.  "Who'd have suspected Dr. Sid would-"  Elliot began.

"When trying to cover your tracks, it's wise to remove all evidence from the scene of the crime," Hein said, his tone lecturing.  Then he raised one sardonic brow.  "Your _name_ is embroidered on them."

Elliot mentally cursed his mother.  What kind of woman gave her middle-aged son teddy bear boxers with his name on them?

He wilted under Hein's look.  "I'm… I'm sorry, sir…  If you need to fire me, I grudgingly accept."  Maybe the situation could be salvaged after all.

"Now, now… everyone makes mistakes," Hein said, his tone almost reasonable.  Too reasonable, Elliot thought with a shudder.  He squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the murmurs of the soldiers around him.  Maybe he could just sink into the ground…  Why was Hein doing this?  Didn't he realize he was destroying his own reputation as well as Elliot's?  He suddenly realized that Hein didn't care, so long as he got revenge.

"What horrible punishment do you have in mind?" Elliot asked dully.  With Hein in possession of all his mental faculties, his punishments were sure to be very creative.  Though he couldn't imagine anything worse than the public humiliation he was facing now.

"Punishment?  For such an… interesting night?  No, major.  I just wanted to give you a gift.  Trust me, Major, you're going to need it.  You need all the help you can get."  Hein pulled a wrapped package from his pocket, then walked away.

A gift?  He ignored Major Hershey's curious look as he contemplated it.  Should he take it back to his apartment, or open it here?

Hershey answered the question by ripping the package from his hands and tearing away the paper.  "Hey, that's mine!" he yelled.  With a giggle, Hershey handed the gift back to him.  What on earth…

_You need all the help you can get…_ Hein had said.  It was a book, and Elliot blushed more deeply when he saw it.  The _Kama_ Sutra?!__

The End


End file.
